Well it took until February, but I've been felled by the Martian death plague that's been sweeping the land. I haven't been sick in ages and I forgot how rotten this feels. The physical part's bad enough, but this thing has sucked out of me every positive thought in head. All is woe.
But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit.
Act 3, Scene 4
The Life and Death of King John, William Shakespeare